


Discomfitment

by Dadbeat



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, M/M, Masturbation, before there were soft sad men plowing each other, there were soft sad men plowing each other just in denial, two guys being total assholes to each other and oh no they like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dadbeat/pseuds/Dadbeat
Summary: Perhaps the Warrior should have teleported to the Pendants. Perhaps he should have asked for his own room in Fanow. Such considerations are too little, too late.(aka 'how i stopped worrying and just banged the stupid sexy ascian in the middle of a jungle'.)
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Original Character(s), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68





	Discomfitment

The first day Emet-Selch follows Altruoix out of Fanow into the wilds of Rak’tika, he is little more than a gnat in his periphery, his occasional quips and jeers naught more than background noise to the greater thrum of the light-soaked jungle. The second day, however, bodes worse. Sharp barbs tear at his concentration like the burrs that cling to his robes, and each slip of his spellcasting is followed by the mocking clap of gloved hands - hands he is ashamed to admit he fantasizes about breaking the fingers of on more than one occasion.

On the third day, exhausted and frustrated from battle (and the increasingly heavy weight of items procured for the Viis) he finally drops all pretense of civility and does the one thing he _knows_ will shut the man up - crude as it may be.

It’s not until he has his camp warded and his pants off that Emet-Selch manages to put two and two together. For what it’s worth, the ascian does not feign outrage. The quirk of his brow and a slight frown betray only slight bemusement - and disappointment.

“Well, now,” he says, crossing his arms with a ‘tch’, “I did not expect Hydaelyn’s Champion to be so...vulgar.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Altruoix shrugs, his mockery of the ascian clear in the movement. He folds his pants and places them atop his pack before freeing himself from his smallclothes with a sigh. “Though one might be forgiven for misconstruing your observation for _interest_ \- the only people who’ve followed me like this have wanted to kill me or fuck me, and you’ve had ample time for the former.”

“Could you not have taken care of yourself in Fanow before you left, _Hero_?” disdain dripping from his lips, Emet-Selch neatly sidesteps the implication. It does not escape Altruoix’s notice - still, he plays along.

“I share a room with _Alphinaud_ ,” he says. Twelve help him, staring at Emet-Selch has him half hard already. It’s not the first time he’s observed the phenomenon, and he _hates_ it. “That alone should answer your query. And you’re free to leave, _Ascian._ I have not the means to keep you here.”

The humidity has Altruoix’s hand already wet. Lying back onto his bedroll he takes himself in hand and languidly strokes. Emet-Selch, for his part, does not leave - frown turning to a huffed pout. The thought of those plush lips around his cock has Altruoix thrusting involuntarily up into his grip - a pout of his own marring an otherwise pleased expression.

“Not surprised you’d stay.” He grinds out while briefly thumbing his slit, composure unraveling at the sensation. “You make -” a groan, “- doe eyes at me constantly when you think I’m not looking. You’ve accompanied me - _oh_ \- for three days in this godsforsaken jungle. You must fancy me quiiiite a biiit.” 

His unoccupied hand slips beneath his tunic to grab hold of a nipple and all further words escape him, supplanted by a long, throaty moan at his own combined ministrations. Briefly he wonders if he’s gone too far with the tease, but if a line’s been crossed Emet-Selch gives no indication and Altruoix is much too aroused to stop. Throwing the ascian one final, cheeky wink he allows his eyes to squeeze shut, blocking out all else but the building pleasure. 

He’s riding the edge of release, mere moments away from spilling when he is suddenly smothered with loam and leather. Emet-Selch’s gloved hand grabs his wrist, yanking it away. 

“Wretched _thing_ ,” the once-emperor snarls, teeth bared. The next moment his mouth is on Altruoix’s and the other can feel the desperation in the kiss because he is _just as desperate_. 

“Gods,” he manages to gasp, hiking up Emet-Selch’s skirts to paw at the pants beneath. “Why the _fuck_ are you so-”

He refuses to finish the thought, fumbling to open the man’s pants and silently cursing the amount of _layers_ he will never have time to remove. It’s so _unfair_ , because with one swift motion Emet-Selch has broken the kiss _and_ removed Altruoix’s top. 

Such an unbelievably _smooth_ bastard. Fuck him.

Digging his hands into fistfuls of fabric Altruoix _hauls_ Emet-Selch upwards until his crotch is at eye level. He’s already switched to breathing through his nose but still nearly chokes with how quickly he swallows down the other man’s length - eager to show he could play _just as dirty_.

Pinned to the ground as he is, it’s difficult to properly bob up and down but the ascian is happy to help, thrusting against him as his moans join Altruoix’s own. It’s a low, rumbling noise, like faraway thunder before summer rain and the comparison is _not_ helped by the petrichor saturating his senses as Emet-Selch unravels.

 **_What’s next,_ ** the warrior’s brain titters. **_He looks good; he smells good. Does his cum also taste like fine wine?_ ** Was there anything _not_ insanely attractive about the villain currently occupying his mouth and living rent free in his libido?

Altruoix doesn’t get a chance to ponder any further, because at that precise moment a slicked digit presses inside him followed by a second. Emet-Selch continues plunging in and out his mouth but Altruoix’s jaw slackens, azure eyes glossy while keening openly with each thrust.

As if from far away, he hears the man above him chuckle. “Such a needy, debauched thing you are.” A hand laces itself in his hair, paired with a mocking pat of his head. “How... _delightful._ ”

Altruoix is not in a position to see the look of open adoration accompanying the otherwise cruel words, and too wound up to notice the hitch of Emet-Selch’s voice - but he _certainly_ reacts when the man withdraws fully to position himself at the warrior’s rear, whining in distress at the loss of contact.

“Don’t you _dare_ leave me like this,” he manages to slur. “Inmo- immo- _immortality be fucking damned_ , I’ll **_kill_ ** you-”

He needn’t have worried. Emet-Selch hauls Altruoix into a sitting position before lifting him up and _plopping_ him onto his dick. Then he moves, and the warrior sees stars - thoughts again going absolutely incoherent (though there is a split second where he wonders _where in the hells did Emet-Selch get lube_ ).

There is little finesse in the ascian’s movements, despite his earlier smoothness. The snap of his hips into Altruoix’s is sharp, feral, and in no time at all he is spent, filling the elezen with gods-knows-what as he pistons across his prostate. With a shudder, Altruoix is coming too, the stimulation combined with the touch of his hands once more upon his painfully tight erection finally sending him spiralling into bliss beneath Emet-Selch, release spurting across his bare chest.

They remain there panting, each contemplating what in the hells they’ve just _done_ until with a strangled gasp the ascian slips from Altruiox to shift back onto his haunches. For one long, tense moment their eyes meet and the unguarded _fear_ Altruoix sees there has him thinking Emet-Selch will flee.

Then the man flops forward, groaning, and instead they just cuddle on the bedroll - _together_ , Emet-Selch’s soft snoring pulling Altruoix down to his own oblivion.

\---

It is nighttime when he wakes - or it _would_ be, were it not for the eternal light overhead.

Altruoix shifts, preparing to get up to start a fire and heat some rations, but is pulled back against Emet-Selch as the garlean, half-cognizant, tucks his head beneath his chin.

“Asshole,” he mutters, pressing his nose into soft hair still damp with sweat. “I need to eat.”

“You don’t have anywhere to be, hero.” Emet-Selch purrs in return, hefting a leg still half-dressed in petticoats over Altruoix’s unclothed ones. “Enjoy this while you can.”

He _did_ enjoy it, and the rude voice in his head made sure to taunt him for it.

“You are not the first...stress relief I’ve sought,” Altruoix responds, more for his benefit than Emet-Selch’s. “And you won’t be the last.”

A tired ‘tch’ and “likewise” is all he gets in response. It’s honestly a relief. He wasn’t sure he could handle _actual_ affection from the likes of the ascian. He wasn’t sure his mind - or body - could take it.

“That said,” he continues, running his mouth in a way he only does when _very_ off guard or _very_ tired, “you’re not a bad lay. I would be, ah, open to more stress relief in the future...if you can handle it.” A yawn escapes him, unbidden, and unconsciously he pulls the man in his arms closer - silk gliding across skin pebbling with goosebumps.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Emet-Selch’s words would be poison - but there’s no venom in the bite. “I have ruled empires, taken countless lovers, _sired children_. If you think a little jungle tryst is my limit, you’re-”

“Yes, yes, sorely mistaken, utterly deluded, captivated by my own ego, _whatever_. Shut up and sleep, or let me get up and make some dinner.”

At that, both lapse into silence, drifting away back to rest. Each tries very hard to ignore what each knows deep in their hearts.

Such a thing **_cannot_ ** remain a mere tryst. Their souls make it impossible.

**Author's Note:**

> me: -takes 5 months to wrangle sub 4k words-  
> also me: -yeets out 1500 in one frenzied evening-
> 
> I don't even know anymore y'all, I have one brain cell and sometimes it goes full hornt and I can do nothing but let it tire itself out.
> 
> Thanks to the Convocation on discord for putting up with my hyperfixation on ascians - you are blessed.


End file.
